


Perfection

by erikaehm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaehm/pseuds/erikaehm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is the perfect blend of familiar smell, easy detachment and human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

Derek knows that Lydia is the perfect choice. As much as his betas say they’re loyal – and they _are_ – every last one of them has challenged him for his position as pack leader. Mostly on the full moons, but still. This is going to leave him vulnerable, and as easy as it would be do lead Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Isaac or Scott through this, he won’t trust himself beneath one of them. There’s always Stiles, but...this is more to scratch an itch, satisfy a craving. He doesn’t need emotional baggage attached to a casual fuck. He also doesn’t want the uncertainty of a stranger in his bed.

 

Lydia is the perfect blend of familiar smell, easy detachment and _human_.

 

His one condition had been no pictures. She seemed like the kind of person that would take them. Not for blackmail, but maybe to remember. He knew he’d been right when her mouth had pulled into a bitter frown.

 

Her one condition was that he be tied down. He’d been confused at that – he was giving her all the power here the chips were in _her_ hands – then he’d remembered Peter, and an out of control alpha. Lydia must assume sex meant no control, and he’d let his claws slip enough times to casually hand her the reinforced cuffs he usually used on Boyd when she’d asked him a second time.

 

He’s stretched out on his stomach, three pillows piled under his hips. His legs are splayed easily, wrists shackled to the headboard. Derek has his cheek to the sheets, eyes closed, neck bare. He’s relaxed in a way he hasn’t been since before Laura died; there is no Alpha here. There is no need to be alert, to keep his back to the wall. In Lydia’s bedroom of soft whites and expensive silks, both sides of him can submit. The man who is weak and the wolf who is tired.

 

He sighed at the first touch she gave him, fingernail stroking low on his back. He could smell her arousal distantly – almost like an afterthought. She was silent as she stroked him, finger tips dragging along the insides of his thighs, tugging softly at the hairs there. He tilted his head to further give her his throat, rumbling a contented growl deep in the back of his throat. He listened to her rough exhale, shuddered softly when her lips ghosted across the back of his neck.

 

He moaned when she opened her mouth and slid her teeth around him, biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise – not that he could – but just enough for him to feel the pressure of it, feel her holding him down. He tensed momentarily, his wolf weary, before they settled as one back into the bed. She tightened her grip on the back of his neck briefly, and then let her lips trail lower, nipping at the knobs of his spine. She stopped at the curve of his ass, fingers scratching lightly at the groove of his hip. Her hand dipped further down, nails scraping over his balls and further back until she could cup his cock. “You’re hard.” She mused, dropping a kiss to a dimple on his lower back before pulling away fully. “You really get off on this don’t you?”

 

He didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, shifting his legs wider apart and rutting his hips lightly into her pillow. The silk felt good, if foreign, and he released another rumble of satisfaction when her hand returned, slick with lube. It was almost odorless, something he appreciated. She’d thought this out, put effort into making sure this would go smoothly. He’d noticed her nails earlier, trimmed down and neat, clipped from their usual length. Lydia would take care of him.

 

The nails of her free hand scratched through the short hairs at his nape, making his stomach quiver. “I need you to relax Derek. Just relax, and focus on me.” Her breathing was even and he settled his attention on that as her middle finger slid into his ass. He’d cleaned himself earlier, a bit of give left over from his own exploration. She fingered him lightly, silent as she worked at stretching him. Part of him wish she’d go faster; he’d heal any damage she could dish out within seconds. The other part was content to let Lydia have her way. His dick quietly agreed, leaking where it was trapped between his stomach and her pretty pillowcase. It had been a long time.

 

She took her time to get him up to three fingers, thumb rubbing along his rim soothingly as she jack hammered his prostate in short, sharp thrusts. His toes curled, pressed into the bed in an effort to get some leverage and – Lydia pulled away. The whine that slid from his throat was borderline pitiful, hands rattling uselessly against the cuffs.

 

She slid from the bed and he could just make her out from the corner of his eye. She was stripping, neatly laying her clothes to the side. She disappeared from view and he listened to the soft rattle of plastic, inhaled the strange scent of silicone that was hidden under her arousal. She was horny now; not as a side thought, but unbelievably so, and the smell made his mouth water.

 

She dipped back into his line of sight long enough for him to see just what she’d brought out to play with. The straps on the harness were clear, blending into her skin aside from the soft sheen of plastic. The rubber cock itself was a bright pink – unrealistic. It was average sized with a grooved tip that curved upwards. The thought of it had his legs spreading wider, ass tipping higher into the air. He watched her hand as she rolled a condom on the monstrosity, taking the time to stroke her palm over the head. Her legs shook a bit, and he followed the silicone up to where it met her body.

 

Seeing where he was looking she smiled. “I can feel everything.” She told him while giving herself two sharp tugs. He realized the toy was partially _inside_ of her, couldn’t begin to imagine how that felt to Lydia – pretty, female Lydia, so damn comfortable in her own skin. He let his gaze drift to the clear front of the harness.

 

She wasn’t clean shaven, which surprised him. She had instead a thatch of darker red-blond hair nestled between her legs, trimmed as neatly as the nails she was dragging through it.

 

He panted softly into open space before tilting his head to mouth at her sheets, fangs drooping heavily over his lips. He let his eyes close again, dick pulsing out another lazy spray of precum. His fingers had twisted into the fabric below them and he listened to the soft pop of shredding thread, something Lydia’s human ears wouldn’t be able to pick up. “Lydia.” He growled more wolf than man. “ _Now_.”

 

“Don’t rush me.” She replied, flippant as she slid onto the bed. Her legs were hairless. Smooth, when she brushed her shin along the back his leg. She laughed softly at the way it felt before settling over the wolf.

 

Her knees were pressed onto the bed between his spread thighs, ankles curled over the backs of his knees. It wouldn’t really do much to hold him down, but Derek seemed to like it, gently flexing his muscles against her slight frame, testing his limits. When his shifting jostled her, she pressed the flat of her hand to the back of his neck, leaning her weight there. He went limp under her, pliant as he mumbled _yes_ , and she took his moment of calm to dribble more lube over her pretty pink dick. Werewolf healing or not, Lydia was not one who associated pain with pleasure. She was going to do this her way. The right way.

 

She pushed in slow, every twitch of Derek’s body vibrating straight through her, until she was finally bottomed out, pressed flush to his ass. She rocked a few times to get the feel of it, hardly pulling out an inch. His legs were trying to worm up, knees trying to press into the bed, and she flattened herself across his back, nipples tingling as they scraped over him. Her head could fit onto his shoulder like this; chin tucking into the groove there to give her some purchase as she aimed for a deeper thrust, toes curled against the sides of his legs.

 

He bucked again and her hand slid around his throat without thinking. Not choking, just holding, a touch he arched into as he tried rutting his hips back into her. Amused, she reached for the small controller she’d tossed onto the bed.

 

The vibrations started, shooting straight into her clit, and Lydia cried out. The rubber cock was trembling, and she could _feel_ more than _hear_ the growl bubbling in Derek’s chest. Her next thrust was her hardest yet, pulling out until his rim caught on her grooved tip, before slamming back home. The growl became a choked off moan, and then her name, as both hands left his upper body in favor of gripping his hips, nails digging crescent shapes into the flesh there.

 

It felt to instinct then; Lydia’s hips jerking against Derek’s ass, thrusts dragging his cock against the pillows. He came first, the flex-tug-pull on her latest toy dragging her over the edge. Where she’d been mostly holding herself up before, she went limp with orgasm, letting Derek take the brunt of her weight as she collapsed across his back. She lapped at the tat between his shoulders, licking up sweat and musk that spoke of man and wolf. He was panting under her, fingers curled downwards, tips brushing against the cuffs. Like he was anchoring himself, looking for something to hold onto.

 

Her hips continued moving without her permission, arms too rubbery to reach for the control. Her eyes rolled into her head and she worried the flesh of Derek’s shoulder between her teeth as a second orgasm built up, stronger than the first. He made a quiet, content noise as she rocked against him. Not so much _thrusting_ as _grinding_ , and his blissed out body was more than happy to lay there and just take whatever she wanted to give him.

 

Eventually it was too much. He could feel the dampness of her lashes where they fluttered on his shoulder blade, the barely controlled trembling of her thighs, which were still pressed flush to his own. He shifted a bit when she pulled out. He wasn’t sore, but there was a satisfying ache at the base of his spine. He listened as she turned the vibrator off and set about cleaning herself up – he could still feel her own slickness against his skin, turning tacky. He _reeked_.

 

He was drifting between being awake and asleep when she came back, warm cloth pressing to his throat. He cracked his eyes open to watch her as she washed him, dipping the cloth into an empty ice cream tub she’d filled with lukewarm water. Her lips followed every strip of clean flesh, soft kisses that were more for her sake than his. “Does this make me top bitch?” She asked curiously as she fondled at his balls.

 

He grunted, sensitive and muttered into the sheets “You’ve always been top bitch.”


End file.
